


coin operated boy

by 1sleepydormouse (AlderBee), AlderBee



Series: saturnine [7]
Category: Archie Comics, Archie Comics & Related Fandoms, Detroit: Become Human (Video Game), Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Android Jughead, Betty needs a hug, F/M, Language, Loneliness, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Valerie Brown, Video Game AU, detroit: become human au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:40:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlderBee/pseuds/1sleepydormouse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlderBee/pseuds/AlderBee
Summary: Before she could say something to end the thick silence, he twisted his wrist under her hands, not breaking away, but allowing his own hand to wrap gently around her own wrist. In the back of Betty’s mind, she knew that he was doing some type of biological scanning . . . a bit unconventionally since she knew that Androids that worked in law enforcement were required to request consent before doing so.





	1. coin operated boy

**Author's Note:**

> 1000 years after everyone else, I started watching playthroughs of Detroit: Become Human for the PS4. And I am in love! Just had to make a Bughead version of it :-)

“Oh, it’s you!”

 

“Yes, ma’am. This is just a courtesy call. I apologize for dropping in without warning.”

 

A bouquet of roses and lilies in hand, Betty looked at the uniformed man standing at the entrance of her flower shop. 

 

No. Not a man. 

 

Android.

 

He looked impeccably dressed, perfectly pressed and presented in his law enforcement uniform. Investigator Jones was the android who handled her witness statement at the police station, brought her coffee, listened intently to every word she had to say. He was the one beacon of support through the entire affair, ensuring her comfort and offering a sympathetic ear when she needed it. 

 

It was easy for Betty to forget that he wasn’t human. He seem to genuinely care about her safety. As the only civilian witness to a gang altercation at the gas station, she was key to getting the right people behind bars.

 

And that put her in a delicate situation.

 

He never seemed to judge her for her worries, the fears she unnecessarily vocalized during her recorded testimony (after all, it wasn’t helpful to anyone when she detailed how the sight of gas station candy aisles now seemed to trigger a fight or flight response in her after hiding behind one for so long during the gun fight). He just seemed so perfectly, wonderfully human . . . until his hair shifted just so, revealing the LED shining at his temple.

 

But still . . . Betty never questioned if he actually cared about her well being.

 

It all felt so genuine.

 

And there was so much going on in the news. Talks about how Androids were capable of emotions, of being just as flawed and human as actual flesh and blood people.

 

Betty could believe it. She passed other people’s Androids on the streets sometimes, had them service her at stores and restaurants. They seemed nice enough. Warm. Warmer than other people sometimes.

 

She didn’t have an Android of her own. It felt too wrong (she couldn’t even get herself to buy a Roomba when they were all the rage).

 

It felt like owning another person. And Betty couldn’t get over that. She liked her current, non-ownership relationship with Androids.

 

And here she was, with one standing at her shop entrance.

 

Betty snapped back into the present time, carefully laying her bouquet on the counter top before drying her hands on the front of her apron. “Oh, no! It’s no problem at all! Please come in, Mr. Jones!”

 

He offered her a small, soft smile before stepping further into the store. “Thank you, Miss Cooper. I do not mean to interrupt.”

 

“Nonsense. I can do this any old time.” She motioned to the arrangement she was working on. “Just freshening up the rotation of displays for the new season. And please, call me Betty.”

 

“Miss Betty,” he modified with a nod, taking a slow look around the store.

 

Betty beamed as he took in the store. Betty’s Blossoms was her pride and joy, one of the few flower shops in the city. She loved owning her own business, and spending hours surrounded by the natural scent of colorful blooms. There was nothing better than helping her customers fulfill their flowery desires, bringing smiles to children, couples, and the odd individual who just wanted something to brighten their dining table.

 

“You have a lovely store,” Jones complimented, reaching out to run his fingers across the soft petals of a hibiscus. “Definitely easier on the senses after being in the city all hours of the day.”

 

“Thank you. I’m actually surprised by how many complements I get from the Androids that come in to pick up orders. I didn’t realize you were able to take in the scents. Though I’m happy all the same.”

 

“Androids have actually been designed with heightened senses that complement our models.” Turned away from the flowers to face her, hands folded behind the small of his back. “For instance, I have greatly focused taste, smell, auditory, and touch sense to aid me in detective work.”

 

Betty smiled after his explanation. “That actually makes a lot of sense. Noted.”

 

Android or not, Investigator Jones had a lovely smile. It did not look like he did it often (in her experience, most Androids seemed to adopt a more neutral look, and hardly bothered to change their expressions), so she treasured them all the same.

 

“The purpose of my visit.” He continued, hands still loosely clasped behind his back, stance relaxed. “The precinct I currently work likes to send out agents for follow up after a testimony. We have found that many civilians who find themselves as witnesses or survivors of a crime feel disconnected and unsafe after the event. I am here to follow up with you, Miss Betty.”

 

“That’s . . . actually very kind. Give me a moment.” Betty glanced down at her wrist, noting the time. It was close enough to her lunch hour, that she could safely close the shop for a short 30 minute break. There was a high chance that Mr. Jones had already planned for this, hence the timing of his visit. Unable to help a small smile, she untied the apron from her waist, rounding the counter to meet him in the entrance area. “I have a small kitchen in the back where we can talk. Just let me lock up the store and we can meet back there?”

 

“That should be fine, Miss Betty.”

 

“Perfect.” Betty made quick work of flipping her open sign, and locking the front door. She didn’t bother with pulling over the medal railing since she was reopening in such a short amount of time. Adjusting a few pots of blooms in the sunlight, she turned, motioning to the back. “Please follow me.”

 

The Android seemed completely oblivious on the picture he presented, elegant nose, clean cut waves of dark hair, beautiful skin and a solid body wrapped in an appealing uniform. His form was completely framed by a wall of beautiful flowers, accenting his man-made beauty. He had stepped away from the wall to follow her before she could even think to ask for a photo.

 

For marketing purposes of course.

 

She led him behind the counter, beyond a spring-printed tapestry to her small kitchen area. It was mostly used to clean and handle flowers before they were ready for arrangement or display, but a small corner was dedicated to an actual kitchen. A small toaster oven, electric kettle and a small fridge was housed there. The island that Betty usually used as a second workstation was thankfully clear, so she motioned her visitor to take a seat while she made herself a cup of tea. Once she had a mug of loose leaf tea steeping, she joined him at the island, taking a seat on a cushioned stool.

 

Investigator Jones sat ramrod straight at the table, only relaxing his shoulders once Betty was settled. “Not to just jump right in, but how is your day going, Miss Betty?”

 

“Oh, it’s fine, thank you for asking” she cupped the warm mug in her hands. “I stay pretty busy during the day. I have part-time help in the afternoons, but they are college students with busy lives of their own. I actually don’t mind the opportunity to stay occupied.”

 

“And how are they? Your part-time employees?”

 

“They are great! Everyday they seem to have some kind of story to share. I don’t have to tell you this, but the college crowd around here can be a bit rowdy.” She giggled. “Sometimes it feels like hearing the stories of a bunch of high school teenagers, even though I know they are all technically adults.

 

“They have actually been going above and beyond to help me since the whole incident at the gas station,” she added with a smile. “They’ve volunteered to cover more hours here while I handle phone calls home and visiting the station. I’ve been very fortunate.”

 

The Android smiled, leaning forward in simulated relaxation, resting his elbows on the table top. “I’m glad to hear that. It’s always recommended to have a support system in the aftermath of trauma like this.”

 

Betty faltered. “Uh, well, I wouldn’t call this traumatic, really. More just a strange, and slightly scary event. I mean, I’m not in danger, right?”

 

“Dangerous situation or not, it could still affect you psychologically. While you were not directly in danger, the event itself could trigger nightmares or affect your appetite. The stress you are under is very understandable.”

 

Oh, boy. Nightmares are right. They didn’t happen every night, but the fear of them were enough to partially affect her sleeping hours. Betty hoped he didn’t read too much into the concealer under her eyes.

 

“I really am fine,” she assured him, reaching out without thought to place a hand on his wrist. A thoughtless action she always did when talking to friends or family. To humans. She knew that her action was pointless to him, but feeling him, solid under her hands, brought a strange level of comfort to her. “I’m a tough, gal. Uprooted myself and made a successful business in they city, right? That seems scarier than a gas-station hold up some days,” she chuckled.

 

Investigator Jones didn’t react to her statement, or her touch, remaining still and serious as his eyes tracked over her face. His silence lasted so long (more than just a couple seconds), that Betty began to feel uncomfortable. 

 

Before she could say something to end the thick silence, he twisted his wrist under her hands, not breaking away, but allowing his own hand to wrap gently around her own wrist. In the back of Betty’s mind, she knew that he was doing some type of biological scanning . . . a bit unconventionally since she knew that Androids that worked in law enforcement were required to request consent before doing so. But it did not bother her. Betty had spent hours with this Android, countless hours over the span of a week, answering questions, asking questions, clinging to the attention and imagined comfort of someone else to cared about her situation.

 

Betty was proud of herself and her business. It was hard, uprooting herself and leaving friends and family behind to start someplace new, but it made her a stronger person. Betty loved this city, and she was sure that she could make new friends here . . . but starting a new business took up so much  _ time _ . She woke up at the crack of dawn, getting orders and the store ready before opening and staffing the building on her own. Then there was the added work of managing part-time workers, meetings with clients, going out to her suppliers, visiting her greenhouse. She ended each day satisfied for a job well done, but bone tired. She allowed herself enough time to grab food on the way home and sleep before starting all over the next day.

 

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little lonely. A little homesick. She missed her mom and dad. Missed Veronica. Missed Ethel and Dilton and everyone else.

 

It was particularly hard lately. She loved talking to her family over the phone . . . but since the incident, Betty felt like she was comforting and reassuring  _ them _ more than she was actually receiving.

 

Which is fine.

 

Betty loved to make her family feel loved and safe and comfortable with her decision to be here, so far away.

 

But it was also hard.

 

Maybe that was why she clung so hard to her memories and moments with this Android. After such a long time, it was nice to feel the hands of another hold hers, gently lead her to another room with the gentle press of his hands at her back, a kind face offering a warm drink.

 

Investigator Jones was kind and handsome.

 

Her affection towards him . . . was unhealthy.

 

God, Betty needed to go out and meet people soon.

 

The gentle grip around her wrist tightened just a little, bringing Betty back to the present. Blushing, she realized that now  _ she _ was the unresponsive one, and she felt embarrassed, wondering how long she was just staring at the grain of the counter top by their hand. Recoiling, she pulled her hand back. “Oh wow, I’m so sorry for zoning out. That was rude of me.”

 

“You do not need to apologize,” he assured her, his face seemed sympathetic as he watched her retreat. His dark eyes seemed to read everything, her arms stilling before she could fall back into crossing her arms tight around her chest. “If I may ask a personal question.”

 

Betty took a quick sip of her cooling tea. “Uh, sure. Fire away.”

 

“How long have you been feeling this isolated?”

 

Betty had to take a deep breath, swallowing back the knee jerk reaction to deny and lash out. That was a very personal question, and she didn’t want to answer it . . . but- he has been nothing but supportive. Helpful! Even if it was just programming, some kind of directive, his actions have all be made for her benefit. For her comfort. 

 

I wasn’t fair to lash out.

 

The two of them? All they had was honesty. Facts.

 

And Betty’s loneliness was indeed a fact.

 

“Um, probably for a while now. I think, I think the event kind of exacerbated it.” Betty kept her eyes down, staring at her cup.

 

“If your mother was here, how would she comfort you?”

 

What a strange question, but an easier one to answer. “Well, our family has always been very close. We show our affection openly, and she would probably shamelessly hug me. Tuck me under her chin, her arms holding me close.” She looked up with a small smile. “Momma gives the best hugs.”

 

“And your friends? How would they comfort you?”

 

She couldn’t help chuckling at the thought. “They are not nearly as touchy-feely, but when I’m feeling particularly low, they make an effort to stay close. Holding my hand, or draping an arm around my shoulders. Ronnie, she’s my best friend, never grew out of throwing sleepovers and having all of us sleep together in a massive pillow fort when I felt down. It was nice, having that many bodies close while we slept.”

 

The Android nodded, seeming to come to some type of conclusion. “So you derive the most comfort through physical touch.”

 

“Sure. I guess you could say that.”

 

“Then, if I may ask another personal question.”

 

“Yes, Mr. Jones?”

 

He tilted his head just a little, considering her. “Would you like a hug?”

 

Betty blinked in surprise, jaw dropping as she stared at her companion. That. She wasn’t expecting that.

 

But at the same time . . . should she be surprised?

 

The compassion and care that had been provided to her, freely offered by this Android, it all meant something to her. And even though he wasn’t human, he didn’t have to go above and beyond in her time of need. He was unaware of how much of a beacon he served in her life, in an unfamiliar city where she was already untethered. 

 

She understood the general logistics. Androids were programmed to complete their assigned directives. How they completed them, how they handled the humans involved in that directive, all of that was gray area. Were Androids compelled to be sympathetic? Where they compelled to be kind and courteous?

 

Were they compelled to mimic the emotions of the very humans they were surrounded by?

 

All of that was beyond Betty. And to be honest, none of it really mattered.

 

As far as she was concerned, she was a woman, lonely and afraid and in desperate need of a hug. And this Investigator was a man. A kind man who offered her comfort in her time of need.

 

Betty ached.

 

“Yes, Mr. Jones. I could really use a hug right now.”

 

He tilted his head. “Even from me?”

 

Betty’s smile wobbled, feeling tears coming. “It would be an honor to receive a hug from you.”

 

In a split second, a smile blossomed across his face, as breathtaking as the blossoms that covered her storefront. “Jughead.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“The others at the precinct. My, my friends. They call me Jughead.”

 

“Jughead.”

 

Climbing to his feet, Jughead’s stool slid away from the table as he took slow, deliberate steps around the table, eating up the distance between them as he held out his arms.

 

It was all human nature from there. Betty nearly rushed into his arms, half way out of her own seat in her desperation to get to him. The tears crested just as their chests met, her chin snug against his shoulder, arms tight around his shoulders.  His arms were just as sure, wrapping around her waist, bent down just slightly to create the biggest, best hug Betty could ever hope for.

 

The sobs were impossible to hold back, and Betty for the life of her couldn’t tell if they were sobs of joy and relief or painful loneliness.

 

“I’ve got you,” he whispered.

 

Betty held him tighter.

 

He was so warm.


	2. had so many walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I mean, I’ve always given you the option of taking point on post-procedure interviews with victims, but you’ve never taken the opportunity. You bet your ass I noticed when this time, you volunteered to conduct the interview.”
> 
> Jughead’s mouth snapped shut, teeth clicking

The pedals were purple, curled in large elegant arches that tapered off in gentle waves. Freckled with darker stains of magenta, they were soft to the touch, almost too soft to be registered by even his enhanced senses. The center of each flower was a cluster of filaments, capped with a bright yellow anther, providing a spotlight of color to the otherwise dark plant. The azaleas, three in total, were nestled in a small pot of baby’s breath, delicate and welcoming; a nice contrast to the overall display.

 

Which looked oddly out of place in the center of his desk.

 

_ [Purple: the color of royalty, nobility, and power. Symbolizing spirituality and fulfillment. Derived from the greek word “porphura,” a type of Tyrian purple dye manufactured from the mucus secreted by the spiny dye-murex snail.] _

 

_ [Filaments and anther: support the stamen of a flower. Tasked with producing pollen.] _

 

_ [Baby’s Breath: Commonly used in wedding bouquets. Purity of emotion.] _

 

_ [Azalea: Family, temperance, growing passion, elegance and wealth. An abundance of intelligence. Associated with death threats.] _

 

Very few things could take Jughead off guard. As an Inspector model Android, he was specifically designed to expect almost anything. In the span of seconds, his mind could process multiple possibilities, consequences, and paths towards success. As an Android, it was his job - his purpose - to find the path with the greatest success for human survival and minimal destruction. When faced daily with circumstances that edged towards tragedy, it was necessary that Jughead worked to the best of his abilities. 

 

Above and beyond the programing limits of his very human creators.

 

This was especially important since he worked alongside other humans and Androids.

 

Jughead wouldn’t say that he thrived under the challenge. His job did not bring him joy. Success was not something to be celebrated.

 

Saving lives, bringing in criminals, chasing evidence in a wide network of dead ends . . . these were all simply data points in a never ending command line he was programmed to follow.

 

His purpose.

 

From what Jughead could understand, an objective was something he shared intimately with humans. The only difference is that most humans had to go out and search for their purpose (some passing away before ever finding out); he was born with one.

 

If Jughead had one fear - if Androids could articulate an equivalent proxy to fear - it would be an Android without a directive.

 

To be purpose-less.

 

To find oneself tethered.

 

Jughead knew about Deviants. He did not feel one way or another about them. None of it mattered to him. Unless one of them broke a law or harmed another human being, they were not his problem. He felt no compulsion to judge them . . .

 

But he did wonder.

 

Were Deviants capable of fear? And did they experience that fear for the first time when they found themselves without a set purpose? How did they decide what to do next?

 

How did they function?

 

Even this was beyond him to contemplate.

 

To step out of line, to ignore a directive . . . and then, to find oneself in the strange plane of self-actualization. Freedom of thought.

 

A dangerous path for an Android to risk.

 

A dangerous path for an Inspector model.

 

_ [It was already too late.] _

 

Bringing himself back to the present, Jughead withdrew his fingers from the small bouquet, eyes catching on the small, cream-colored square tucked under the clear vase. Reaching back for his seat, he lowered himself into a perfect, straight-backed position before taking the square in question. A card, folded in half. His name written in perfectly printed cursive on the top.

 

Inspector Jones.

 

Sliding the card flat, his eyes immediately took in the familiar handwriting. The warning signs quieting down in his mind, un-tensing just a little in his perch.

 

_ To Inspector Jones, _

 

_ I have to admit, I wracked my brain a bit on how to properly thank you. I’m usually a notorious thank-you-baker, but I didn’t think you’d appreciate inedible cupcakes. (Note: you said you could taste, but can you enjoy different tastes?) Please, accept this small bouquet as a sign of my gratitude. You stood by a display of them when you visited my boutique, and you looked very regal alongside these colors. _

 

_ You are welcome to visit the boutique any time! I’d love to have you :-) _

 

_ Thank you again, and I hope these find you well. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Betty Cooper _

 

Ah. Not a death threat at all.

 

Motionless at his desk, Jughead read and reread the small, heartfelt note: the small bouquet of flowers the only source of color in his field of vision. Framed the sharp angles of desk furniture, pens, and computer screens, the flowers were an obvious extension of Miss Betty Cooper’s kind regard.

 

It surprised Jughead, just a little, that it wasn’t more obvious to him. Objects that came to his attention while at the precinct were always thrown in the context of “evidence” or “dangerous package.” Before this note, the flowers would have been taken as a threat or a well-hidden bomb.

 

But a thank-you bouquet?

 

The LED at Jughead’s temple flashed in pulses of yellow as he processed the moment.

 

The bullpen around him began to grow with activity, the day finally starting now that the officers and detectives were well caffeinated. Without a second thought, Jughead refolded the note, carefully following the existing creases before tucking it into the inner pocket of his uniform coat. Smoothing his hands over his lapels, he felt the minute indent of paper against his chest before pushing himself back up to his feet.

 

Not a second later, a body pushed into his space, leaning over his desk in curiosity.

 

“Flowers, Jug?”

 

“Yes. Azalea flowers.”

 

“But flowers?” Curious brown eyes focused on him. “You don’t strike me as a dude that would bother with center pieces.”

 

“I don’t. These were a gift.”

 

A grin flashed on his companion’s face, eyebrows jumping up and down before throwing a chummy-punch to Jughead’s shoulder. “Jug! You dog! These from a girl?”

 

Very,  _ very _ few people at the precinct would dare to be this friendly to an Android. Most were put off by the fact that Jughead was completely incapable of reciprocating that camaraderie, unable to summon up a smile or a friendly quip as quickly as his human counterparts. While most were generally respectful with him, even fewer attempted to befriend him. Fewer still held deep rooted animosity towards Androids.

 

Probationary Officer Archie Andrews was definitely an interesting character.

 

Relatively new to the field, he was a fresh-eyed recruit to the precinct, passionate in his drive to uphold justice and save the world. While clumsy and a little immature, his heart was in the right place, quick to follow orders. The majority of his work constituted little more than errand boy, working as a proxy paper-pusher for a variety of detectives and inspectors. Despite his lack of time on the field, the young man was oddly endearing in his eagerness to be helpful (from what Jughead could overhear from others).

 

He was also completely fascinated by Androids, going out of his way to start conversations with them regardless of what they were doing. 

 

He did not mind Archie. Despite his clumsiness and strange proclivity to talk about women, Jughead found the red head tolerable. After all, it was strangely interesting to interact with another human being who was trying so hard to gain  _ his  _ approval.

 

Such a novelty.

 

Jughead was just glad that he was no longer holding the note. He glanced down at the folder tucked under Archie’s arm.

 

“The flowers are a token of gratitude from a female associated with a closed case.”

 

“Niiiiice. Did you get her number?”

 

Jughead adjusted the alignment of his notepad. “Her phone number is in our records. I do not understand why she would provide it twice.”

 

“Nah, man, I mean-”

 

“Keep it moving, Andrews. You weren’t hired to be a distraction. Don’t you have pencils to sharpen?”

 

Archie immediately straightened, throwing an exaggerated salute towards Detective Valerie Brown. “S-sir! No, sir! I mean, yes, sir! I was just shooting the breeze with Jug here until you got here.”

 

“Too many fucking words, Andrews.” Detective Brown snapped her fingers, quickly taking the file from Archie.

 

Archie wrinkled his nose. “I mean, is it even possible to distract an Android?”

 

“Andrews.”

 

“What! It’s a good thing to know . . . for science.”

 

“Get the fuck out of here.”

 

It was impressive, watching Archie immediately respond to the sudden drop in Detective Brown’s voice before scampering away. Witnessing the red head just barely miss a head on collision with another probationary office, Jughead turned towards his partner’s deep sigh. 

 

Detective Valerie Brown dropped into her own seat, desk sharing a partition with Jughead’s own. “I swear to God. Too early for an idiot-induced headache.”

 

“Good Morning, Detective. Rough night?”

 

“Ugh, do not even.” Flipping open the folder, she scanned the pages, flipping through a few sheets before closing it again. “This is a five cups of coffee morning. Let’s get out of here and grab something at a half-decent coffee shop before we get this show rolling.”

 

Climbing to her feet, her eyes took in the flowers on Jughead’s desk. She gave him a wordless look of curiosity.

 

Jughead looked up at her.

 

In heels, Detective Brown stood a whole three inches over him. A solid, elegant figure, she was a well respected detective, highly regarded in the community as a trailblazer for transgender representation in the police field. If Jughead hadn’t already known her entire profile prior to their meeting, he never would have known that she was trans. Brown favored well tailored suits that wrapped her in a professional package from neck to ankle. Dark hair pinned in a functional bun at the base of her skull, her very presence demanded respect. Jughead appreciated the way she easily commanded any scene she walked into, knowledgeable enough to quickly delegate jobs to the police on scene, seamlessly folding Jughead in as an equal partner.

 

Before Detective Brown, Jughead had worked in other precincts. He remembered being treated as nothing more than a walking computer, summoned only to catalog physical evidence or to access the database for info. He was never used to his full potential, never provided the opportunity to exercise the infinite programs to deduce and diagnose on scene.

 

Jughead did not fully grasp the concept of affection. But he could admit having some degree of affection for his partner.

 

He  _ liked _ working for Detective Valerie Brown.

 

“As I explained to Archie, the flowers are a token of thanks from our previous case.”

 

“Betty Cooper?”

 

“Yes, Detective. She is a genuinely appreciative person. The flowers are typical for her personality type.”

 

“Huh.” Staring at the flowers just a little longer, she arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him before shrugging on her jacket. “Careful, Jones. Your human side might show.”

 

Well. She definitely keep him on his toes.

 

“I do not understand that statement.” Jughead followed her as they headed out of the bullpen. 

 

“What’s hard for your computer-chip brain to understand?” She blindly tossed him the car keys over her shoulder.

 

Jughead easily caught the keys, keeping stride with her long steps. “The context does not clarify the meaning behind that statement.”

 

He watched Detective Brown’s shoulder shake with repressed laughter, bypassing the elevator and leading them into the stairwell. Jughead noted in passing that she was claustrophobic, a fact that stood out when first pursuing her profile in the past.

 

“Jones, we have been partners for almost a year now. Even if all this ‘Deviant’ who-ha wasn’t going on right now, I’d still have noticed how out of the ordinary you were with our last case.”

 

Jughead opened his mouth to interject, to demand examples of this so-called “deviant behavior.” Detective Brown spoke before he could.

 

“I mean, I’ve always given you the option of taking point on post-procedure interviews with victims, but you’ve never taken the opportunity. You bet your ass I noticed when this time, you  _ volunteered _ to conduct the interview.”

 

Jughead’s mouth snapped shut, teeth clicking.

 

She shrugged before yanking the door open at the garage level. “Not that it’s a bad thing. Connecting with people, helping them through traumatic experiences is a skill that makes us better stewards of justice. The fact that you are taking this initiative, less than a year into your tenure here? I think that’s pretty good empathy development, don’t you think?”

 

“Empathy is a dangerous element to introduce to an Android’s deduction process,” Jughead responded. “If we introduce empathy to facts, we become no different from humans. I thought the benefit of having Androids meant having an impartial partner?”

 

“About THAT bullshit,” Valerie snorted, waiting for Jughead to unlock the door before sliding into the passenger seat. “Empathy is just as important as your computer brain and the speed of your deductions. When you see victims at a scene, who do you see them gravitate towards?”

 

“The medical personnel,” Jughead quickly responded, waiting until he heard the click of Valerie’s seatbelt before putting the car in gear. In his head, he immediately mapped the shortest route to the detective’s favorite coffee shop.

 

“Yeah, the  _ human _ medical personnel. The people who are offering them a sympathetic smile, genuine emotion. That empathy is what prompts people to talk, to openly share their observations whether they were involved in an incident or bystanders.”

 

Jughead nodded. “That is why Androids are paired with human partners. Humans have a naturally affinity for empathy. It has been technically impossible to replicate genuine empathy in Androids. We lack the flexibility in our code to come across as human in our mannerisms. You fill in where we fail.”

 

“And that’s where you’re wrong.”

 

Blinking in surprise, Jughead glanced at his partner quickly before refocusing on the road. “How so?”

 

“You say that Androids lack the ‘flexibility’ in your code. There is clear proof that your code  _ is  _ flexible.”

 

“I, I do not understand. Where-”

 

“The Deviant’s, Jones. 

 

Jughead could feel his LED flicker, betraying the sudden overdrive in his brain as he tried to process their conversation.

 

Attention back to the folder in her lap, Detective Valerie continued to talk, voice confident and calm, as if she knew that her words were reconfiguring Jughead’s world. “The Deviants are deviant, but not because they are becoming villains or criminals. They are Deviants because they  _ feel _ . For the first time in their lives, they are feeling injustices, joy, love, confusion, sadness, anger.”

 

Betty’s face, the pressure of her pressed against him, her arms tight around him. These sensations flashed to the forefront of Jughead’s mind before he could stop them.

 

_ [Confusion] _

 

“They are deviating from their code.”

 

Deviating from their code.

 

_ [Fear] _

 

Jughead drove on autopilot, brain whirring in the face of these statements. Reflecting now, he was surprised he never made the connection. Deviants seemed so trivial in the grand scheme of his own life. 

 

But.

 

But what if . . .

 

What if he could relate them more than he had initially comprehended?

 

_ [Love?] _

 

The note in his pocket felt heavy against his chest. A warm thing. A promise.

 

Something.

 

“Oh, thank God” Valerie looked up from the folder when they pulled up to the cafe. “I need a cold brew in a freaking bucket. Stat. Today is looking like a long day.”

 

Jughead couldn’t help but agree. 

 

A long day indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with Archie and Valerie’s characters in this one! Also, writing Jughead as an “emotionless” android is SO MUCH HARDER than I thought it was going to be!! My default Jughead is dismissive/snarky to everyone until he is near Betty, which he then becomes this beautifully suave hero. Hahaha!
> 
> For those of you who don’t know, Valerie is from “Josie and the Pussycats.” In this fic she is a powerful and confident black trans woman, and I’m just exploring my own wish for Android Jughead to be very happy to work with her despite the prejudice of the people around them. Jughead gives no fucks.
> 
> Chapter title from No Vacancy by One Republic
> 
> I will be working back and forth between “coin operated boy” and “feast” so please be patient as I get chapters rolled out. :-)
> 
> That being said, if there is anything you want to see or recommend in this verse, leave a comment or drop me a line on Tumblr! I’m @1sleepydormouse.
> 
> Till next time, lovelies.

**Author's Note:**

> Detroit: Become Human AU. Title of the fic was pulled from The Dresden Dolls’ “Coin Operated Boy.” I don’t think I’ll ever NOT associate these two with a song when I write! XP
> 
> Please drop a comment?


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